Her Smile
by bell.esque
Summary: SasuSaku for the blanket. The next day, he hands her a pair of knitted mittens, and he knows for a fact that she smiles more often and more beautifully than before.


**Title:**Her Smile

**Author:**Kikoru Sijan

**Dedication:**the blanket, because she's amazing in so many ways that you can't ever describe. Anne, _ohmygodness_, I don't think I'll do a good enough job. I love you, though. I hopehope_hope_ this will be okay, love. You are just...indescribably beautiful. Thank you so much for all those squishes. And you are such a kind friend. I don't deserve to have you or anyone else as my friends. I'm really sorry it's so short. D:

**Pairing: **SasuSaku

**Prompt:**mittens

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Naruto_.

Hope you like this! This is **AU**, just to let you guys know.

* * *

When Sasuke wakes up in the morning, he doesn't think about anything except the girl with her own cup of hazelnut coffee every morning at ten fifty-three in the café across the street. He doesn't want to admit that he cares about her, because frankly, he doesn't even _know_ her. Not her name, age, parents, job—nothing at _all_. But she is interesting, so he can do nothing but be _curious_ about things. Like why exactly her hair is _naturally_ pink. 

(It doesn't make any sense to him, but he doesn't mind at all)

He sees her everyday, and he knows she knows him

(because, really, who _doesn't_ know Uchiha Sasuke?)

but he wants to know the most about who _she_ is. It annoys him, and it bugs his mind all the time. He can't help but he upset because, really, _he knows he won't figure anything out on his own_. Uchiha Sasuke doesn't ask for help. He is an independent, brave, determined, and absolutely manly man who will _not_ accept any help. Because that was just how he functioned as a person.

(So how exactly was he going to figure things out again?)

This particular morning, he gets in one minute late, and he is surprised to see that the girl is not scribbling in her little journal about something or reading. She is looking out the window instead, though the familiar cup of coffee is still in her hand as the snow drifts down.

"Hey."

She looks up and blinks a little bit before smiling

(he secretly thinks she should smile like that more often)

and nodding.

"Hello. You're late today.'

"Only by a minute."

"Late is late, Sasuke."

He takes a seat, not nervously, because really it's just like any other day. There's nothing really that much different. It's the same as usual. Yes?

(No.)

Yes, yes it is. It is just like any other day at ten fifty-_six_. The only thing is that she is not reading or writing quietly, and he did not get up to order his own cup of coffee. Instead, they are staring at each other, until she takes a sip from her mug and breaks him out of his trance.

"Uh, so."

"Yes, so?"

He shifts his eyes a little bit, because there's no way to actually do this and not get help or actually ask her, so he tries to be subtle about it. He hates the fact, though, that these

"What...exactly is your name?"

She pauses slightly, and he is afraid that she is mad for a moment. But she is not, because her lips start to lift up a little bit and finally, she laughs

(sweetly, melodiously, beautifully)

a little bit before setting her mug down. She doesn't falter or feel upset, nor is she the least bit surprised that he just _doesn't_ know.

"My name? Haruno Sakura. I didn't expect you to know me, anyway. So don't feel bad or anything."

"I don't."

(_Lies_.)

"Oh, okay, then we don't have a problem, do we?"

"No, not at all."

(_Maybe if I could stop _thinking_ about you.)_

She sits there swirling her cup of hazelnut coffee, just looking at the brown liquid in the shelter of the warm café, not even looking up once. He can't help but stare at her bare hands, the ones that are cold, pale, icy. They are not covered, but they are cold, and she tries to draw out heat from her regular coffee. He rests your eyes on her delicate hands, and for a while he feels bad when he looks down at the warm pockets he has and the pair of black gloves. He knows for a fact that her coat does not have pockets, which she can stuff her fists into when she is cold. She also has no gloves, and he feels a little bit of pity.

(_I do not care, I do not care, I do __**not**__ care_.)

"Aren't you going up to order anything?"

"...Oh, no, not today..."

Finally, she gets up, signaling that she is about to leave. He follows after her, out the door and into the cold. She shivers slightly, her body shaking before she breathes out deeply and tries to get her hands warm by rubbing them together and holding tightly to the cup.

He walks past her, like nothing happened, because he does not want to care about Haruno Sakura. He does not want to care about her being cold and how her hands are like ice cubes in the middle of winter while it's snowing outside. He does not _care_ about her at all. Because he only knows her name and possibly her favorite coffee. He does not even want her to acknowledge him. He only has a cup of coffee with her every morning before they leave to work.

_(The next day, he hands her a pair of knitted mittens, and he knows for a fact that she smiles more often and more beautifully than before.)_

* * *

Bah, I didn't like that one. Um, thoughts? 


End file.
